


Traffic Report

by achievement_huntresss



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Autistic Character, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Happy 10th Anniversary Danger Days!, Helium Wars | Analog Wars (Danger Days), Nonbinary Character, Other, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievement_huntresss/pseuds/achievement_huntresss
Summary: Mad Gear and Missile Kid are out in Zone 6 when they get the news.
Relationships: Mad Gear/Missile Kid (Danger Days)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Traffic Report

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY TENTH ANNIVERSARY DANGER DAYS! 
> 
> I love this album and I wanted to write something to celebrate.
> 
> Takes from the album/music videos AND the comics! But no spoilers, don't worry! Most of this is my interpretation of what happened fueled by canon!! Headcanons at the end notes if you're interested!
> 
> Enjoy!!

The fire crackles at Mad Gear's feet. Years of running and military service had given them pretty bad pain in their ankles, but there was something about resting their feet up against the rocks surrounding their weak little campfire that eased the ache. They glanced over to where Missile Kid sat on the hood of their (sort of hideous) Camaro. They'd lucked out, all those years ago, scavenging together in the ruins of what had been Los Angeles when they'd stumbled on a garage with an honest to Witch working car. The Kid's face had lit up so bright it had almost hurt Mads to look at them. Kid had rambled stuff about " _It's a 1967- Mads do you know how good this car is-_ " and " _The shocks are good, the motor's still running, Mads oh my-_ " while Mads nodded and pretended like they understood cars. They took it for a joyride, down crumbling city streets, whooping and hollerin' out the windows - feeling for once like the kids they never got to really be.

Mads smiles at the memory, watching the Kid in the present fiddle with the radio, long body stretched over the hood of the car. The Kid had always been better at technology than Mads, taking things apart and putting them back together with ease. Their hands were restless, and Mads was honestly a little jealous of how easily the Kid could assemble and disassemble things while still holding a conversation _and_ eye contact. 

The Kid hums a melody that Mads immediately picks up on, reaching for their guitar (another beautiful find from the pre-war ruins out past Zone 7). They play it back to the Kid by ear, who grins up at them from the radio. 

"Sounds great, Mads." 

Mads pretends not to preen under the praise. "We could throw in some sick synth behind it, maybe in a different-"

The radio crackles to life, the Kid letting out a whoop. They hop off the hood and settle next to Mads, resting their head on the smaller Killjoy's shoulder. They listen to the crackling broadcast, a song that's definitely one of theirs playing its last few notes. Mads lets out a contented sigh and plays the guitar along with the radio. The song ends, and Dr. D's normal sign-on comes on, a god awful rendition of an anthem for a nation that no longer existed. Mads remembered it from their childhood, a fuzzy memory from another lifetime. They remembered growing up in the slums of what was to become a different wasteland up north, past the zones, 7 older brothers and a dog, none of whom survived the war. They'd been the youngest, the draft getting them at 17, spending their next two birthdays in the trenches. Mads in the present frowns and feels the telltale sign of ghosts staring at them. They wriggle closer to the Kid, who wraps an arm around their shoulders. 

The Helium wars hadn't been too bad, Mads muses as the radio still wails the anthem. That's where they'd first met Missile Kid.

A little before Australia had disappeared, a ton of Australian immigrants had flooded California. They were immediately volunteered into the war, effectively killing off most survivors so BL/i didn't have to deal with them. Mads remembered the fight for power, the corporation vying for control of the government pretty much since they'd been a young child. They sighed again, looking up at the night sky. It was still a dark green, clouds from atomic bombs and decades of war hiding the true sky from sight. Mads could recall blue skies, and even the stars and moon at one point.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Missile Kid asks, their quiet accent pulling Mads from their thoughts.

"I miss the stars," Mads answers, not really wanting to get into it.

Kid nods, something Mads feels rather than sees. "Me too. Maybe someday they'll be back." It's such a Missile Kid thing to say, so quietly hopeful that Mads wants to laugh. They don't, not wanting to hurt the Kid's feelings, but the optimism from their partner is truly something to behold. They'd lost their home country, fought in two wars, survived brainwashing in Batt City and the withdrawal from the pills. They'd been exiled alone to the Zones, with only the ghosts of all they'd lost for company, and yet Missile Kid was still one of the most positive, most optimistic person Mads had ever met. They often wondered how different their lives would have been if they'd been in the same Unit in the wars longer than a few days, had met in the city while getting off the pills, had found each other sooner. Would Mads be more like the Kid, more hopeful? Or - Witch forbid - would the Kid be as jaded as Mads? Mads frowns.

"Hey," Kid jabs them in the temple with their finger. Mads jolts. "Program's about to start. Y'good?"

"Yeah," Mads lies. Kid pretends they buy it. Mads often wakes up in the night in their shared sleeping bag, strong arms wrapped around them and pretends to still be asleep as the Kid whispers _'tell me what's on your mind, don't go where I can't follow'_ into their short hair.

They sit in silence listening to the final few notes of the anthem, Mads taking Kid's hand in their own and stroking the calloused and burnt skin with their thumb.

The anthem ends and the crackling grows louder and then diminishes. "Look alive, Sunshine," Dr. D drawls and Mads smiles despite themselves. They'd fought together in the Helium wars, before the Doc's injury, and Mads really looked up to the man. He had given them the chance to make their music, to rebel, and Mads and Kid would be forever in his debt.

Dr. D finishes his usual intro and takes a deep shuddering breath. Something about it makes Mad's blood run cold. Sensing it too, Kid sits up straight.

"Bad new from Batt City, tumbleweeds. The Fabulous Four, on a rescue mission in the City, got themselves into a clap with the Exterminator known as Korse." He takes another deep breath, and Mads freezes. _No. There's no way._ "They uh, they got themselves ghosted. All four, confirmed casualties. I wouldn't believe it either, tumbleweeds, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes."

Mads sits in paralyzed silence. The Kid drops the radio into the sand, hands flying up to cover their mouth in horror. There was no way the Fab Four- They were kids. Actual kids, young teenagers. Mad Gear and Missile Kid had met them a few times, once at the radio station, once during a fire fight out in Zone 4, once at their own show in the Zone 3 crater. There had to be some mistake-

"It's time to hit the red-line and upthrust the volume out there. Keep the leather hot and your zaps even hotter. You'll be getting Dracs out there before you're done zipping up your boots. Keep those boots tight, your gun close, and die with your mask on if you have to." Another deep breath. "This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off for the time being. Here's the traffic." A melancholy song begins to play, one that Mads knows too well. It's a song about the wars, the kids from yesterday who never got to see the morning light of tomorrow. Mads and Kid wrote it a long time ago, for their lost brothers in the war and in the city. Everytime Mads heard it, they always wondered how many Dracs they fought were really old friends under the mask.

The radio turns off with a click. Mads turns to look at Kid, their own shock reflected in their partner's face.

"Kid-"

Kid crashes into Mad's arms and begins to sob. Mads holds them as tight as they can and stares into the great darkness of the sky. They know that the Witch doesn't kill people, only takes their souls, but they're angry enough that they want to scream and curse the Witch and her shopping cart. The Four were legends, even to Mad Gear and Missile Kid, and knowing them, knowing that they really were just kids... It was unfair. Mads knows that there's no such thing as fairness out in the Zones, but they wished that there could be, just this once. 

Mads strokes the Kid's hair as their sobs quiet down. The blue haired 'Joy sits up and wipes their face with their jacket sleeve. Mads studies them, not sure what to say.

"It's not fair," Kid says quietly. It's strange to Mads sometimes, how Kid seems to read their mind and say whatever it is that they're thinking. Maybe they've been together too long.

Mad nods. "I know." They can't think of anything else to say. They sit quietly for a while, the crackling fire and the wind the only sound in the dark. 

Mads is just about to say something to break the silence (they know how much the Kid hates silence) when the Kid suddenly sits up straighter, a look of horror dawning on their face. 

"What? What is it?"

"They got ghosted in Batt City."

"Yeah that's what-" Mads cuts themselves off, realization dawning. "Fuck. Oh my G- _Kid._ Their masks."

Kid fixes them with the most incredulous look Mads has ever seen on their partner's face. "What? No. Mads. The kid."

So much for reading each other's minds. "Kobra Kid? Yeah, he's probably-"

"NO." Missile kid stands up, hurriedly cleaning up their sad little campsite. " _The_ kid. The girl. The motor baby."

"Fuck."

They jump up, helping pack everything into the Camaro's trunk. Mads hops in and starts the car, turning the radio completely off as Kid kicks dirt onto the fire and clambers into the passenger seat. With a roar that has always meant freedom, the two 'Joys take off in the sand to get to the road.

\----

They drive in silence the entire way out of Zone 6. The Kid takes Mad's hand in theirs at one point, peeling off the worn fingerless glove and kissing each knuckle. Mads knows it's more for the Kid than Mads themself, so they allow the gentle skin contact. Despite the two being together for years, Mads still is a little uncomfortable being touched. The Kid knows this and respects this, but sometimes they need physical touch for reassurance or comfort. Mads loves them and loves how much they respect them, so they let it happen with minimal complaining. Usually.

They hit Zone 5 and see the lights. Killjoys mourn in a way that's always felt different to Mads. Instead of donning black like they had in a different life, sitting on hard long wooden pews and listening to the droning voice of a man who didn't want to be there, Killjoys light it the fuck up. They play music so loud it makes your teeth rattle in you skull, donning every color they've ever seen. Explosions and gunfire can be heard all over the Zones whenever a death is announced on D's program, but tonight it's like every single person in every Zone is doing their best to make sure the Witch knows she's collecting the souls of four beloved heroes.

It makes Mads a little sick to their stomach. They grip the Kid's hands a little tighter with their own, keeping their eyes on the road.

"At least some Dracs are gonna get got," Kid mumbles against Mad's knuckles. Mads nods, eyes ahead. They almost pity the Dracs who are on patrol in the zones tonight. Almost.

"D'you-" Their voice cracks. Mads clears their throat and tries again. "D'you think they'll become Dracs?"

An awful silence fills the car. Mads wishes they'd never spoken at all. They pass an old Dead Pegasus station, the 'Joys out front lighting a huge bonfire that looks like it could swallow the Camaro whole. Kid rolls down the window and the duo cheer along with the 'Joys. One of them recognizes the car and cranks the radio louder, their own song blasting through the night. Kid smiles and they keep driving past. 

"I'm sorry," Mads says.

"For what?" Mads can feel the Kid's gaze turn towards them. It makes a prickly feeling run down the back of their neck. The shiver and pull their hand out of Kid's grip.

Mads clears their throat. They pass another camp, music flooding the silent car. They wave to the 'Joys as they pass and then return to the silence once it's gone by. Mads turns on the exit onto Route Guano. 

"For bringin' up the Dracs. I shouldn't've. 'm sorry." Mads listens to Kid's breathing, one of the few things in the world besides music that doesn't drive their overly sensitive ears crazy.

Kid's always been sensitive to death, having lost most of their Unit back in the Helium wars within a few minutes. Still shell-shocked, they'd been moved to Mad's Unit, the two briefly meeting when Kid saved their life in the trench by tackling them to the ground to avoid blaster fire. Mad's unit had been moved to a different front, and the Kid had been left behind. Mads thought they were never gonna see them again, but they tried to look for them after the cease-fire, after being moved to the city. After Mad's arrest for protesting pill prices, the torture they'd endured at the hands of the Director, and the shame of exile, they'd been wandering the Zones alone, doing odd jobs for Dr. D and other exiles. They'd been in the middle of a firefight with a handful of Dracs when suddenly a blue haired whooping terror set off a grenade and took out 5 of the Dracs in one hit. Missile Kid recognized Mad Gear, and the older 'Joy agreed to team up with the Kid for a day. How that day turned into a week turned into a month turned into the past 10 years, Mads still had no idea.

They'd both seen their share of death, starting for Mads when the roof of the bomb shelter their family had been hiding in collapsed. They saw ghosts from then on, no amount of medication could stop it. The Kid had grown up with death, watching Australia fall more and more into ruin. They never talked about it, but Mads knew the Kid thought Australia had been much worse off than America. Even after the wars, it was like a cycle they could never escape. It was like all they could do was watch as friends, zonerunners and Killjoys alike were ghosted one by one, or worse, forced to put on the Drac mask and become nothing more than a shell of the people they used to be. Mads had always secretly thought to themselves that dying was one of the easiest ways out, even if your body got recovered by BL/i. They never felt any regret when they killed Dracs, but they also made it a point to never look at the faces as they took off the masks and put them in the mailboxes. Better not to know who it was that they were fighting.

They pass a few 'Joys doing tricks on dirtbikes. The 'Joys recognize them immediately and scream at them, inviting them to do a few stunts. Mads revs the engine to placate them, and guns it, leaving the now elated 'Joys in the dust. Kid manages a laugh and Mads even almost smiles.

Almost. 

They hit Zone 4 in no time, passing even more convoys and celebrations of mourning. Mads swears they see the Witch sitting by a dying fire, her shopping cart carrying a yellow motorcycle helmet, a space helmet, and a purple and green monster mask. They can't see her face, but they feel like she's baring pointed crooked teeth in their direction. They quickly speed the Camaro up, running a hand anxiously across the back of their neck. They catch the tail end of a fire fight by an old donut shop, two 'Joys back to back as they ghost the last remaining Drac. Kid waves to them, and the duo waves back, turning their music up. Mads does smile at that, hearing their own song used as celebration of life and death. The Kid leans up and turns the radio on, tuning it in to Dr. D's freq. He's still playing music, no interruptions, and while that does fill Mads with a horribly sad feeling, the song that fills the car makes them crack a smile. Kid had written it for Mads, although Mad Gear denied it (usually with a blush) to anyone who asked. It was about summer love turned eternal, offering to pick someone up and stay with them. But also, the offer of running away whenever they wanted. Mads reaches over and mirrors Kid's actions from earlier, taking their hand and bringing it back to Mad's side of the car, bringing it to their chapped lips and then setting it down in their lap. Kid beams at them, and Mads nearly puts their sunglasses back on, despite how bad of an idea that is at night in the Zones.

\----

They reach the radio station without any trouble. The station is mostly dark, the only light coming from D's office, behind his newspapers covering the windows. Mads pulls up next to the van and puts the Camaro in park. The station van has blast marks that are definitely newer than the existing ones on there, and Mads heaves a sigh. Kid squeezes their hand before letting go to unbuckle. Mads pulls the keys from the ignition and both 'Joys exit the car and just stand, looking up at the blinking red light on the top of the transmission tower.

"Kid," Mads begins. They want to tell them to not get their hopes up, to not expect the best, to ask what they're even expecting, _what they're even doing there_. Their partner's nickname hangs heavy in the air as they stare at each other over the top of the car. They stand in silence, both just looking at each other before the Kid nods and they begin walking up to the station. _Huh_ , Mads thinks, _maybe the kid is psychic after all_. They jog after the Kid and catch up with them when the door to the station swings open.

Show Pony stands in front of them, eyes red, hair mussed, and lacking their usual helmet and skates. They're also pointing a blaster directly in Kid's face and Mads fights the urge to pull their own gun on their friend. 

"Oh my gosh," Show Pony's usually light, feminine voice is hoarse. "Missile Kid, Mad Gear- I - I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," the Kid says gently. Show Pony moves aside and the two musicians enter the station's main room. "It's good to be prepared, especially after-" They cut themselves off. Mads takes a look around the room.

DJ Hot Chimp is sitting on one of the tables, her blonde head in her hands. Cherri Cola is sitting on one of the worn out couches nearby, blankly staring at the ground. He doesn't look up when Mads and Kid walk in. The girl is asleep in one of the hammocks strung up on the back wall, clutching her radio. Tear tracks run through the dirt and grime on her face, and Mads winces and fixes their gaze on the floor. Pony walks over to the tiny kitchenette and pulls a can of water from one of the shelves. They offer it to Mads and Kid, who both decline.

"What happened?" Mads asks before they can stop themselves.

Pony shakes their head. Chimp lets out a noise like a choked off sob, the only indication that she's still alive and not a strange statue set up in the middle of the room. Cherri doesn't move or say anything. He just keeps staring at the floor. The girl slumbers on. Mads suddenly is whisked back to a similar time, a few years back. A friend of theirs and the Kid's, another Killjoy had been worse than ghosted - right in front of them. It had just been Dr. D and Cherri and the duo back then, all sitting in silent shock. They had burned too many bodies that night, watching in horror as they were all too injured or shocked to move as that Killjoy had been taking, screaming and kicking, by the Dracs. She had cried out for the Witch to take her, begging for help. But it was too late. The Dracs put the mask on her and loaded her into one of their vans. It was one of Mad's biggest regret. They'd hoped for years that she went quickly, that the Witch had finally found her and taken her.

_(Oh, but the Phoenix Witch did find that Killjoy. She watched as the eternal rage over the death of her husband and friends, the betrayal she felt at Dr. D, Cherri, Mad Gear, and the Missile Kid failing to save her, is pushed into her unborn child, and that the rage will fester into something potent and magical. The Witch watches from her campfire, her shopping cart rattling even with no movement, as a Killjoy who is a week pregnant is Dracced, the final emotions from that Killjoy creating the bomb that’s going to destroy BL/i and release all of the souls trapped on earth._

_The Phoenix Witch smiles as she watches the child grow. She smiles as she watches the Killjoys fight for her. She smiles as she collects )_

Cherri Cola finally sits up. His face is gaunt, blank, and Mads immediately recognizes the man he used to be, the young teenager who was forced to fight in a war he didn't understand. It broke Mad's heart sometimes, to see someone younger than them face the same horrors that kept Mads and the Kid up at night. In a kinder world, Cherri would be a poet, Cherri would be happy, _Cherri could be Cherri._

"They're gone." Two words. Just two simple words spoken from Cherri and suddenly Mads felt like the floor was swaying from under their feet. The Kid sits down on one of the chairs hard and buries their face in their hands. It wasn't like they doubted the traffic report, but to have it confirmed by Cherri - it was almost too much.

"Where's D?" Mads says.

Chimp looks up, anger and sadness fighting a war on her face. "Where do you think?"

Mads leaves Kid behind, walking with a straight spine to the tiny office off the main room. The red "ON AIR" sign is on, but Mads has interrupted before, for much less serious matters. They figure D won't mind.

They open the door and enter quickly, shutting it behind them. They allow their eyes to adjust to the neon lighting, the singular lamp on the desk the only true source of light. D is in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed. His sticker-covered canteen is in his lap and his sunglasses and bandana are off. The song playing on air is an upbeat song about killing the party, Mads had written it to make fun of the party pop songs that had been created for the radio in Batt City. Mads had always hated radio pop, especially disingenuous music made solely to placate the masses (which is what BL/i solely seemed to create). They loved playing it live, their bass heavy in their hands and the Kid beating the shit out of their drums behind them. Mads sighs, alerting the older man to their presence.

"Mad Gear?"

"Hey D," they don't even try for a smile.

"Missile Kid?"

Mads tilts their head in the direction of the main room. "Mourning with your crew."

Dr. D nods. He takes a swig from his canteen and offers it to Mads. Mads had never really been a drinker, but fuck it. They took the canteen, taking a long swig and wincing at the burn. D's moonshine was infamous in the Zones, rumors flying that it was just straight gasoline or that it could bring the dead back to life. Mads snorts a laugh as they hand it back to the Doc.

"What happened, Doc?" Mads asks, feeling like a broken record. "You said - the broadcast- Your own eyes, D?"

D sits up, looking much older than he really was. He was only a decade or so older than Mads, but he looked ancient in that moment. "The girl got napped. Korse, some Dracs. They ambushed the Four far out in the Zones. Left 'em all for dead and took the girl. The idiots-" D makes a noise like he's going to start crying, but clears his throat instead and continues. "They went to Batt City with no backup. Just the Four of 'em. Took the tunnel." Mads winces.

"They went into the tower. Found the girl. By the time we'd been alerted by News," D runs a hand over his face, eyes closing. "We got the girl into the van. News got a hold of everyone's masks. Except-"

"D?"

"Party Poison's mask. She couldn't find it." Mads lets out a disbelieving noise.

"But-"

"I know, Gear. I know." Suddenly Mads is 17 years old again, wearing a bloodstained uniform and carrying a too-heavy gun. The Doc had a different name back then, same as them, but the same piercing gaze. Same fatherly tone. He understood the ghosts Mad Gear saw, understood that they weren't actually mad, despite the nickname given to them by their fellow soldiers. He was the only one who listened to them like they were talking sense, nodding and even agreeing with their madness. 

The explosion that had taken half the unit and Dr. D's leg had shot a gear into Mad's head.

They'd both died that night, two different people crawling from underneath the corpses of people they'd loved. Mad Gear had clutched at Dr. D, and Dr. D clutched at them, until morning came, and a different Unit appeared with medical supplies. As Gear didn't have any missing limbs, they were assigned to a new Unit, the one they'd eventually be with until the end. Whenever asked for their name, they'd say "Mad Gear", and that was that. Whenever fighting eased, and they were able to sleep, they always thought about the Doc, wondering if he was even still alive. When they'd heard that voice from the Zones after their exile from the City, it was one of the few times Mad Gear had ever cried.

Now in the present, Mad Gear moves to sit on the open spot on D's desk. They fiddle with the bad luck beads on their wrist, not looking at Dr. D, who they can feel staring into them with eyes that might as well belong to the Phoenix Witch with all the knowledge they hold.

"Gear," He says, quietly. Gently. Like they're still a little kid.

Mad Gear looks up, meeting his gaze.

"The girl is safe." D says. It's such a military thing to do, talk about the positives rather than the losses. A new song begins to play, a song about hiding from the 'Crows. Mads frowns and drops their eyes back to their lap.

"The girl is safe," they repeat, slowly, tasting the words in their mouth.

"We'll find Poison's mask. We'll help them move on."

Mads laughs a little. "Maybe the Witch'll check trash cans in the City. Stupid Dracs prolly dumped it."

D chuckles and Mads feels a little less like a too-taut guitar string. The song fills the silence. D rests a hand on their knee, just to squeeze it reassuringly before taking his hand off. He knows them, knows their thing with touching. There used to be a word for people like Mads, back before the war, but maybe the radiation has messed with their head a little too much because they don't remember it.

Mads sways a little on the desk to the music. It was one of their better tracks, Cherri offering their poetry skills for help with rhyming schemes, Show Pony shaking a tambourine (and much more, on stage) in the background. They smile down at the beads on their wrist and the faded blue bandana wrapped around their other wrist. 

"Y'gonna play our tracks all night, Doc?"

D smiles and takes another swig from the canteen. "It's all we got, Tumbleweed."

Mads clears their throat. "Well, we got... Me n the Kid have been working on a few more tracks. If you want them."

Dr. D stares long and hard at Mads enough that they climb off the desk and turn to pretend to study the art on the walls to avoid it. Then, he speaks. "Boots on the ground, soldier. I think new tracks are exactly what the Zones need right now."

Mads nods and all but sprints out of the office. The main room hasn't changed, Cherri still on the couch, the girl in one of the hammocks. Pony and Chimp are sitting against the counter on the floor, and Missile Kid looks up at them, alarmed at their running.

"New tracks," is all Mad Gear offers in answer, throwing open the front door and hightailing it to the car. They rummage around in the drunk before finding the vinyl, the BL/i logo crossed out and blue and red spray paint over the sleeve. Mads smiles down at it, gently sliding the vinyl from the player/recorder the Kid had assembled all those years ago. They place the vinyl into the sleeve and close the trunk of the Camaro, walking back up to the station. They beeline past the group in the main room, only offering a rare toothy grin to Missile Kid and enter the office once again, closing the door behind them. They hand the vinyl to Dr. D who grins at them.

The song currently playing ends, and D cuts off the record to put on his headphones and turn on the mic. "This is Dr. Death Defying and I bring you breaking news, folks. After a few months of silence after the show in the Zone 3 crater went all Costa Rica, they’re back by way of the Phoenix Witch: The Mad Gear and The Missile Kid are at it again." As he speaks, Mads takes the record off the player and puts the new one down. They shoot a thumbs up to Dr. D, who reads the scribbled tracklist on the back of the sleeve. "Alright children, hot off the presses from all the way out in Zone 6, here comes F.T.W.W.W." He cuts the mic, and presses a few buttons. The song hits the airwaves hard, and Mads can't help but let out an excited whoop. It never gets old, hearing their music on the radio. Dr. D smiles at them.

"Next track is Mastas of Ravenkroft," Mads says, even though D has the tracklist in his hands. "Then Black Dragon Fighting Society, then Zero Percent, then We Don't Need Another Song About California." They run a hand through their short black hair. "Sorry it isn't much-"

"Don't apologize, Gear. This is exactly what the Zones need," D's eyes are kind, and Mads looks away, eyes on the flag behind him. The spider seems to stare back at them. 

"I'm, uh..." Mads clears their throat. "I'm gonna go check on Missile Kid." D nods and turns back to the record. Mads slips out the office door, gently shutting it behind them. They walk over to where Missile Kid is looking out the window, watching the lights in the distance. 

"He like it?" Kid asks, not looking at Mads as they approach. Mads wraps their arms around their partner's middle, a rare show of physical affection.

"Y'always ask that." Mads mumbles into the worn leather of the Kid's jacket. Kid laughs lightly, eyes still focused on the celebrations in the Zones. 

"Doesn't hurt to ask," Kid replies.

Mads rolls their eyes, despite the Kid not being able to see it. "It hurts me. Hurts m'pride."

Kid snorts. "You have enough pride to go around. I'm sure you'll be fine."

They watch out the window in silence some more. Pony or Chimp must turn on the radio, because their song begins playing in the background. Mads hides their smile in the Kid's back. 

"Y'know how we were talking earlier? About the stars?" Mads says quietly. It feels like months ago that they had that conversation by the fireside.

Missile Kid nods. "Yeah?"

"I think I believe you."

Missile Kid turns around in their arms, looking down at them. They reach up to cup the Mad Gear's face in one hand. "Believe me about what?"

"The stars," the Mad Gear replied, shrugging, not breaking eye contact. "Someday they'll be back."

Missile Kid smiles. The Mad Gear leans up, their song screaming behind them, lights of the Zones flashing in front of them, and gently kisses their partner. They put what they can't say into the kiss, relief at being alive, sadness at losing the Four, gratefulness that the girl is okay, joy at their music being played.

They pull back, arms still wrapped around their partner. 

Missile Kid smiles. 

The Mad Gear smiles.

Out by a dying fire in Zone 4, the Phoenix Witch studies the masks in her cart, and smiles to herself. The radio half-buried in the sand under one of the wheels in the cart wails with a song that can only be described as the sound of freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> Mad Gear - Late 20's to early 30's, mixed Japanese and white. Helium wars began when they were 5 years old, they were drafted when they were 17. Plays bass, keeps hair cropped short. Color: neon yellow.
> 
> Missile Kid - Late 20's, black, Australian. Helium wars began when they were very young, volunteered when they were 16. Plays drums, has long blue dreads, usually kept tied back with a yellow bandana. Color: electric blue.
> 
> If you like Mads/Kid content, I highly recommend these two fics:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374488  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/6906286
> 
> I was heavily inspired by both of these for characterization and backstory!! Enjoy them!!!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
